


Moonstruck

by softjohndae



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Minor Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun, Summer Romances, most of the boys are only mentioned sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 03:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19845049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softjohndae/pseuds/softjohndae
Summary: And then the boy looking like that typical fifties’ greaser-boy, who the lead girl was head over heels with, dashed in.





	Moonstruck

**Author's Note:**

> The poem cited at the end belongs to ivyandrose, all credits to them!
> 
> You can read the vietnamese translation by wangmin of this fic from [here](https://bornthismingg.wordpress.com/2020/03/25/deryxiao-moonstruck-complete/) and [here](https://www.wattpad.com/story/210469000-trans-moonstruck-)!

It was kind of terrifying, kind on funny, how Dejun never meant for this to happen. None of it. No soft glances, no lingering touches, definitely not those long walks turned to stargazing on the beach, none of it. He didn’t want this. He didn’t intend this to happen, he had just wanted a nice, long summer break with his cousin and his family, and his friends. 

And then the boy looking like that typical fifties’ greaser-boy, who the lead girl was head over heels with, dashed in. 

It had been in the beginning of the summer, Dejun had just got settled in to his new summer home. Well, it wasn’t new, Dejun had spent last three summers with Kun and his family, away from the dust and fumes of the capital city. Kun lived in a rather small town, close to the sea, a river flowed through it and its cobblestoned streets. It was an old town, one could see it, it was in the paintjobs of the houses, in the hinges of the doors, in the gazes of the old folk. A little secretive, once been burnt down, now just a little seaside town with tourists rarely passing by. 

Despite being small and old, it was lively, especially during the summer. Cafés, little shops, Dejuns’s favorite antiquarian bookshop, and its’ little old lady behind the counter. So idyllic. So calm. So relaxing. 

And then the boy looking like that typical fifties’ greaser-boy, who the lead girl was head over heels with, dashed in, with a little quirk in the corner of his lips. 

***

Kun worked in a video renting shop. The customers were mostly older folk, as the young ones had their streams nowadays and so on. Dejun sometimes spent his days with him in the shop, dusting off the shelves, reading the covers of the old videotapes, wondering how life was back in the day, how everything had changed so much in such a little time. Kun was a little upset that the shop wasn’t doing as well as it had in its golden era. Dejun was, too, if he was being honest. Even if he liked the silence of the shop, the calm atmosphere, the warmth of the sunlight seeping through the windows and reflecting against the dancing dust in the air, he would have loved to see the shop in its bustling glory. 

But Dejun didn’t spend most of his days in the shop, no, he spent them in the bookshop, laying on the lawn behind Kun’s house, swimming in the nearly-warm sea, he spent them daydreaming, making friends, walking around Kun’s neighbor’s dog. Her name was Space. Dejun occasionally called her Universe. Reading books, staring at the boundless sea from the pier planks with Kun and his friends, writing poems of the lands Dejun would never reach, daydreaming, playing too many board games, drowning in summer. Summer, summer, summer! 

At least that’s how he had spent most of his days, until the boy looking like that typical fifties’ greaser-boy who the lead girl was head over heels with, dashed in with a little quirk in the corner of his lips and stardust in his eyes.

Or perhaps it was the sand on his face, as he was looking at Dejun a little teary-eyed from where he was laying, having just a mere moment ago dived after the volleyball into the dunes.  
“Hi, I’m Kunhang!” He scrambled up and stuck his hand out to Dejun.  
“Hey. Dejun.” His hand was warm. 

*** 

Dejun hadn’t meant this to happen. He hadn’t meant to walk at the end of their little line of friends, he hadn’t meant for Kunhang to slow his steps to match Dejun’s, he hadn’t meant to smile at the boy as he introduced himself more in depth. A friend of Lucas’, lived a few-hour drive away from Dejun’s hometown. Apparently he had relatives living near Dejun’ home. His hair, more specifically one wisp of hair fell over his eyes constantly. 

Kun and Ten were closer than they had been past summers, Dejun noticed, the air smelled a little more like sea every year. Kunhang was easy-going, he laughed a lot, he made others laugh a lot. Dejun could totally see why he was one of Lucas’ best friends. Yangyang had finally got his growth spurt, and he would surpass Dejun soon. How sad. 

It was kind of funny how Kunhang’s presence seemed to light up the whole room. The air. The atmosphere. He wasn’t the ‘new guy’, no, it felt like he had been part of their group for an eternity. Dejun felt comfortable with him around. The only bad thing he could point out of Kunhang was that he apparently didn’t know how to shut up during a horror movie. 

A week, two weeks passed, Dejun spent even more time daydreaming. About what? Nothing in particular. And everything in particular, instead of Dejun it was now Ten dusting the backs of the videotapes. The grass prickled underneath Dejun’s skin, tickled his arms, his neck, the book was boring, so boring Dejun didn’t pay attention to the details, there was no substance to the main characters, who let this man write a lesbian romance? It wasn’t working, and the man obviously didn’t know anything of lesbians, or women, or love. Dejun didn’t know anything about love, either, but he knew how to write women in stories without being an objectifying asshole. 

Dejun was full of summer, he loved it, nearly as much as he loved autumn. It was kind of funny, how he had expected this summer to be just as the others, a few great adventures and memories, he hadn’t meant all of this to happen. He hadn’t meant to sit next to Kunhang in front of the ice cream stand, knees bumping against each other (Kunhang had scraped his knee and had a pink bandaid over the scratch). Chocolate ice cream melted a little too fast and Dejun ended up making a mess. 

Kunhang laughed at him. Dejun couldn’t help but giggle. 

*** 

It was kind of funny, how the boy looking like a fifties’ heartthrob, with a wild wisp of hair over his eyes was nothing like those greasers from Crybaby. He wasn’t even close. Dejun had expected him to be mysterious, graceful, just like the love-interests in those movies, but instead he got a boy whose legs were a little too long for him to have proper control over them and a quite high-pitched laugh, who snorted at everything even mildly funny, who was unnaturally good at mini-golf and who didn’t read books. At least that’s what he said. 

It was kind of funny, how Dejun couldn’t focus on reading even the most favorite of his books, because all he was thinking was the way Kunhang’s eyes lit up every time Dejun smiled at him. 

It was kind of funny how it was thirty degrees outside, but it was still Kunhang’s gaze that made Dejun melt. 

*** 

The sand burned against Dejun’s feet as he dashed through the dunes, the wooden basket in his hand full of bread and watermelon and ice tea and grapes and Dejun didn’t even know as it was Kun’s mother that had just given him the basket before he had had time to leap through the door to the street. Dejun was searching for the boys from the beach, Kun wasn’t answering to Dejun’s calls nor was Lucas, Yangyang was visiting his grandma a town over, Dejun didn’t have Ten or Sicheng’s numbers. And he didn’t dare to call Kunhang. Why? They had been texting two previous nights, why didn’t he dare to just call him and ask where they were? Dejun didn’t know, but then he heard a familiar scream from the shoreline on the other side of the beach. 

They had been texting, yes, it was Dejun that had first asked Kunhang what he was up to, if he was still awake (at nine in the evening, not the smoothest opening to a conversation), and Kunhang had answered with ‘nothing much, you?’ and Dejun’s heart had made a little somersault inside of his chest. Kunhang used so many emojis, half of them looked like hieroglyphs and Dejun didn’t quite catch the meanings behind them, but nevertheless he had learned that Kunhang’s sleeping schedule was just as bad as Dejun’s. At three in the morning Dejun had finally fallen asleep, and woken up next morning (or rather, noon) to a text message (or rather, five text messages) from Kunhang, which two of them asked if Dejun had already fallen asleep, one said ‘good night, sleep well!’ and the last one said ‘good morning!!’ with a sunny emoji and a yellow heart. That heart had made Dejun’s whole morning. This morning he had woken up to a similar message, and Kun had noticed he was smiling more than usual before he had left to get Ten. 

It was kind of funny, how Kunhang was the only one sitting on the blankets, and how his smile made cold shivers run down Dejun’s spine. Not the bad kind. The good kind. And it was still thirty degrees.  
“Hi!” Kunhang was always so cheerful, water formed little droplets to the tips of his locks.  
“Hey.” Dejun’s sweater was too big for him, he realized that now, the sleeves going over his fingertips, why was he wearing a sweater and shorts in thirty degrees? Oh how hot it was, but it was cold and Kunhang was staring and smiling and suddenly it was Way Too Hot and ooooh no Dejun was going to drop the basket, no, not the basket, and the basket dropped and made a loud thud and sloosh-.  
“Oh no, the ice tea!”  
Oh no, and Dejun wanted to bury himself in the sand. 

*** 

It was kind of funny, how Dejun and Kunhang were again the last ones, walking behind the group, Ten shooting knowing glances at them every now and then. How their knuckles brushed against each other every now and then. How all of a sudden instead of chatter, there was an awkward silence, and a giggle every now and then. 

Kunhang looked like the concept of summer romance. Dejun read books, he knew what summer romances were, but Kunhang was just the embodiment of summer romance. He looked like long days and even longer nights, he looked like sweet summer rain drizzling down, he looked like the warm sunlight of the afternoon seeping through the leaves of the trees in Kun’s house’s backyard, he looked like a gentle zephyr of wind, fields of flowers, sunrises, summer. He looked like summer. 

And as in every summer romance, Dejun was ready to break his own heart. 

*** 

It was raining. Dejun’s shirt was clinging to his frame, his hair fell over his eyes. He was warm. And he didn’t know if it was the alcohol buzzing through his veins or Kunhang (yes, he did). Dejun was holding Kunhang’s hand, trying to stay on his feet and not to stumble on the wet cobble stones of the city center. The older city center. Or just the old town. He wasn’t as drunk as he pretended to be, he just liked the warmth of Kunhang’s hand and the way every time Dejun slipped, he took a better hold of him. Dejun liked to be held. He liked to be held by Kunhang. 

“Why is it raining?” Dejun whined, looked up at the sky and got pouring rain washing his face, cleansing the dust of the day away.  
“The ocean came all the way here to give you little kisses and you’re complaining?” Kunhang laughed, pulling Dejun closer.  
“You come up with metaphors like that and say you have never read any books.” Dejun giggled.  
“Maybe I should write one. Dejun and his summer adventure. It’s a children’s book.” Dejun lightly shoves Kunhang’s shoulder, just lightly, it doesn’t hurt, Kunhang merely moves by the impact, just laughs. His hair is matted against his head, his jean jacket has turned from light blue to dark blue. The street lights light up their way home. Kunhang’s hand is no longer in Dejun’s, instead it’s now wrapped around Dejun’s waist. Dejun wants to say things, a lot of things, but he doesn’t, he lets Kunhang pull him along, lead through the streets all the way back to Kun’s house. 

Dejun and his summer adventure. And his summer romance he had always yearned for. 

*** 

The fifties heartthrob. Made in heaven. Dejun was curled up next to him, the stars littered the night sky, moonlight drowning out some of them. The waves against the shoreline nearly lulled Dejun to sleep. The fire flickered, danced, licked the wood of the campfire, crackled, little sparks flying up to the sky every now and then. Dejun had a blanket over him, Kunhang’s arm around his shoulder.  
“They’re dating, aren’t they.” Dejun heard Ten whispering to Lucas, and Lucas shrugged his shoulders, at least that’s what Dejun guessed. He had his eyes shut, he could only smell Kunhang, the sea, the fire, the wool of the blanket. 

Kunhang smelled like summer. He smelled like the morning dew, rain after weeks of nothing but sun shining, he smelled like flowers of the wild kind. He smelled like aloe vera, and Dejun knew the shampoo Kunhang used had some in it. Sometimes Dejun forgot there were people around them as he laced his fingers through Kunhang’s, as the other boy snuggled closer, squeezed his waist, whispered some stupid joke to his ear and made Dejun giggle.  
“You know, your giggle is my favorite thing to hear.” Kunhang had said last time they had walked together through the city, on their way from the movie theater to Kun’s house. 

But they were friends, still. Just friends. They hadn’t spoken of being anything else than just friends. But friends weren’t supposed to know how the other one tasted.

*** 

Kunhang looked like an angel in the afternoon glow, the sunlight danced against his skin, golden. It was kind of funny, how Dejun was so moonstruck by him, just staring at Kunhang, Dejun was unable to think or act normally, it wasn’t like him at all just to stare and giggle and laugh and smile at someone, yet alone someone he had met a mere month ago, he was moonstruck, in love, nearly. And that scared him. He was scared how utterly head over heels he was over Kunhang, how the littlest things the other did made his heart beat faster, how it made him turn to mush, to a soft fit of giggles. Babe, you’re made in heaven, that’s what Dejun wanted to say, but he didn’t, he took Kunhang’s hand and leaned his head against his shoulder, their legs hanging off the pier planks, water splashing and wetting their toes. There’s wind thrifling through Dejun’s hair, making it fall over his eyes, as it always does, and Kunhang tucked one strand behind Dejun’s ear before pressing a chaste kiss against his lips. 

Dejun just might not be ready to get his heart broken anymore. 

*** 

It was kind of funny, how Dejun never meant for any of this happen, how he had expected the summer to be like any other summer. He hadn’t expected for the fifties heartthrob to dash in and sweep Dejun’s feet from underneath him, kiss him silly in between the shelves of the old antiquarian book shop and take his hand and drag him to watch sunrises to the nearby beach. Love was something Dejun hadn’t expected to find during the summer, not underneath the starry nights, not on the sandy beaches and in between the soft sheets of Kunhang’s bed. Love wasn’t something he had expected to experience, not now, not ever, really. It was just as it had been described in the books, only more real, more there, more inside Dejun’s head, more in his fingertips, more in the soft touches Kunhang’s lips left against Dejun’s neck. 

It was kind of funny, Dejun did nothing but write poems himself these days, and think about Kunhang. Sometimes he sat curled up next to him and wrote poems of happiness, of love, of summer. Oh, how his head was full of summer! The flowerbed against his back was gentle, the sun was setting, the sky was orange pink yellow violet blue, it was all of the colors at the same time, and it was nearly as beautiful as Kunhang. But Dejun wasn’t even looking at the sky, no, he was looking at Kunhang beside him, listening to him talk mindlessly of his hometown, watching how his nose scrunched a little every time he smiled. Watched how the sky reflected against his eyes.  
“You know you’re breathtaking, right?” Dejun whispered, moonstruck, Kunhang paused for a heartbeat.  
“I don’t, but I do know that you’re breathtaking as well and I might not be a poet, but I think I’d manage to squeeze out a few romance novels out of your ethereal beauty.” Roses dusted over Dejun’s cheeks. 

Kunhang’s knuckles were a little bruised, always the one to get himself into trouble, Dejun ran his thumb over the scratches. Kunhang pressed a kiss over Dejun’s lips, butterflies flew around Dejun’s stomach, still, after two months they had gone nowhere, and he doubted they would go anywhere in the near future. Fifties heartthrob, made in heaven, soft lips against soft lips, Kunhang’s jacket was a little too big over Dejun’s shoulders, but he loved it nevertheless. Like he loved Kunhang. No, he couldn’t compare love towards a jacket to love towards a person. He did love the jacket, but he loved Kunhang even more. He loved him as summer loved autumn, despite autumn being summer’s end in every cycle. He loved Kunhang as the sky loved sunrises, new beginnings, the light, how the sky loved sunsets, the little endings, how the sky loved the stars, the moon, the sun, all of it. He loved him. Him. Him. Him. Dejun’s summer was all him. 

Things that fall, petals teardrops snowflakes rain stars tides eyelids time shadows leaves the sun and I, for you, as it said in the poem Dejun had once read, and as those things fell, so did Dejun, for Kunhang

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed this stream of consciousness-ish mess that was this little fic! I just wanted to blow some steam off by writing everything that came to my mind, hence this word vomit (and also manifest my love towards Hendery and Xiaojun). If u want to contact me or hmu or anything, follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dulcetchan)! Love u and thank u for reading this, mwah!


End file.
